


Colorless

by TheAmazingCat (Kaybay2323)



Category: The Shadow of the Tower, The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 21:11:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5885353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaybay2323/pseuds/TheAmazingCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth's thoughts post-Arthur's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colorless

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy!

The latest months had left Elizabeth without any clarity or reason. Elizabeth’s confinement near, Lady Stanley knowing how heartsick she was took care of all for her. Telling Elizabeth

to rest her body and her heart. She found she could not. But still she did as they instructed, which is why she was in her rooms still sitting in a grand chair looking out the window.

Looking out to the now bare trees that surrounded the palace, the ground was bleak and brown, and even the sky seemed without color.

 

Arthur’s death was nearing its first anniversary, and a new child in her belly she should began to heal. She found herself unable to; she had lost children before, she had even lost a

child before. Her darling little Edmund, she had watched as he faded away, caressed his golden blond curls. He was too weak to survive in this world, Elizabeth accepted his death as

God’s will. How was a child born in the middle of winter truly meant to live? Elizabeth had wept though; Henry beside her remaining stoically strong. They recovered, they knew joy

again, the court was festive again, they rejoiced as Arthur’s betroth was brought to them. the Spanish _Infanta_ , she dance and celebrated for her son and felt no guilt for being happy.

 

Now however she felt guilt for any lingering happiness left in her. What was different about Arthur? He was her first born of course, the first babe that she held in her arms. The most

important of her babe’s, it was so important where he be born and that he was in fact a boy. She was so proud of her accomplishment when he was born. Was that why his death was

different? Her grief felt more then just that though? Was it because he was her heir? Was this how her mother felt when her two heirs became lost to her? Was this how her Aunt Anne

felt when her heir died suddenly? Was it the grief of knowing you failed your duty? Not just as a wife but as a Queen, that your heir was not strong enough to survive this world. That

the child you praised would not live to become the greatest of his name? No, it was still more, perhaps it was Arthur’s age, and he was the oldest of any of her children lost. Was this

how her mother felt when she lost her sister Mary and her Grey brother Richard? Was this how her grandmother felt when she lost her son John? She bonded to Arthur much more then

she had been to little Elizabeth and Edmund, she knew his wants and desires, she had letters written in his hand. She had seen him grown into an almost man. But it still felt more.

 

Why could she not understand why Arthur’s death effected her more then the death of her other children? Was it the loss of what could have been? Was it that all her dreams were

painted on him? Nothing gave her answers.

 

Arthur’s death had left her void of color and meaning. And now as the winter months drew upon them Elizabeth could only feel her energy depleting further. Elizabeth feared for the

babe resting now in her belly, she caressed it gently. Another babe to be born in winter, she had no energy for it. Her grief was apparent to all who saw her.

 

Henry had noticed of course, even though she could tell he was struggling with his own grief. She knew he wished she hadn’t gotten with child so soon. He knew she was still heart

sick from Arthur’s death and never healthy or strong in pregnancy as her mother had been. The doctors, astrologers, and midwifes all reassured them she would survive the birth but

she was unsure how much faith she had in them. Were these not the same people who had promised her that Arthur would have a long and vibrant life?

 

Elizabeth and Henry were apart over the summer; she had gone to Wales. She wanted to be where Arthur was last, to see his grave, to kiss the stone of his grave marker. While it gave

her closure to see his grave she almost wished she hadn’t. There was space between them now. Like there never was before; not even when they first married. It wasn’t that he no

longer loved her, she had no doubt he did and she too loved him, or that he blamed her for giving him a weak son, or that he wished for the space, but it was simply there.

 

Henry, she had come to learn, was a deeply private man; especially in matters of love and affection. She did note though how similar and how different he was from her father; she

remembers when her sister Mary died. Her father’s grieving face similar was to Henry’s. Only when you caught her father off guard, when he would turn his head and smile and pretend

he was okay, Elizabeth knew better. Henry just couldn’t seem to pretend as her father had that he was okay.

 

            Elizabeth’s prays were erratic, at first she prayed for a son to be the spitting image of Arthur, but then she took it back. How would she look and love such a babe. She couldn’t

stand a pale copy of her beloved son. Even her prays for a son were mingled with anxiety, another son could not replace Arthur. Elizabeth felt deep guilt for wishing the babe be a girl,

shouldn’t all Queens wish for sons, especially when she has but one.

 

Elizabeth simply didn’t know what she wanted, all she knew is she felt the pang of Arthur’s death and did not know how it would ever heal.

**Author's Note:**

> I know all I do is write angst, I apologize. But since it's the anniversary of Princess Katherine Tudor's birth I decided to write this.   
> Leave me a kudos if you did and leave a comment telling me your thoughts.


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